


On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing

by skywarrior108



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywarrior108/pseuds/skywarrior108
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Slender fingers slide down the column of Rachel's throat, brushing against smooth skin, before both of Quinn's hands begin to slowly wrap around her neck." Angsty Faberry one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing

**Author's Note:**

> You ever write something and then ask yourself, "Where the hell did that come from?" This is one of those things.
> 
> Originally written and published in December 2011. Title suggested by your.kat.

Slender fingers slide down the column of Rachel's throat, brushing against smooth skin, before both of Quinn's hands begin to slowly wrap around her neck.

Uncertainty courses through Rachel as she looks up to meet her girlfriend's eyes. "What are you doing, Quinn?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, she presses down lightly, staring at the girl beneath her intently. "Do you trust me, Rachel?"

"I-" her response is cut off as more pressure is applied to her throat. Rachel tries to swallow—albeit with slight difficulty—and gazes at her girlfriend with growing apprehension.

Hazel eyes bore into chocolate brown with quiet intensity. Rachel stares back, searching for something that might clue her into what Quinn is thinking.

"Do you trust me?" she repeats, and Rachel catches a flicker of desperation behind hazel eyes.

Trying to remain calm, Rachel refuses to break eye contact with Quinn. Something is wrong—something must have brought this on. And while she normally trusts Quinn, she doesn't understand why her girlfriend feels the need to do this.

"I do," Rachel manages to gasp out.

To her surprise, Quinn tightens her grip. Breathing is becoming difficult and Rachel struggles to remain calm.

"I want you so much sometimes that I don't know what to do with myself," Quinn says, tightening her fingers ever so slightly as she leans down, brushing her lips against the brunette's jaw. "And I think that you would let me do anything to you, and that you would gladly let me. And it scares me, Rachel. Because how can you trust me when I don't even trust myself?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but finds that words are impossible. Quinn has literally rendered her speechless.

"Tell me to stop, Rachel," she begs, increasing the pressure of her grip.

Rachel gasps for air through her gaping mouth as panic swells in her chest. She can't breathe.

"Please."

She wants to, but she can't.

Tears spring to her eyes, and her hands fly up to Quinn's wrists, grabbing onto them tightly, but to her alarm, her girlfriend doesn't let go.

Instead, Quinn releases a shuddering breath and sinks further into Rachel. She loses her grip and struggles against the blonde's larger frame to no avail. She's aware of wetness on her cheek and Quinn trembling on top of her.

Through the haze of her own panic, Rachel realizes that Quinn is crying.

Suddenly, previously unyielding hands slacken against her neck, and Rachel's throat is free. Relief floods through her as air rushes into her lungs, almost painfully so.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers against her ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

All Rachel can do is pant for air as she stares up at the ceiling, eyes unseeing—her world consisting only of the air in her lungs, her girlfriend's warm weight pressing down on her, and tear-filled apologies in her ears.

She's confused and completely overwhelmed, and suddenly she's crying. Quinn slides her hands under Rachel, pulling her into a desperate embrace.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Quinn says again, and Rachel shakily slides her arms around Quinn's back and holds on for dear life.


End file.
